


Love You Like A Love Song

by Sabulana



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, I don't even know okay, I'm not sorry, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e14 The Gentle Art of Making Enemies, The Morning After The Night Before, but it doesn't feel like a rebound, it's complicated - Freeform, it's still new, sort of, sort of established relationship, they don't know what to call it, they're still getting over other people, utterly shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 16:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10166873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabulana/pseuds/Sabulana
Summary: Jim sings in the shower.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many things I should be working on but I wrote this instead. I watched Gotham as soon as NaNoWrio was done, as a reward for getting to my target and then binged on fanfiction and then ... needed more. Especially more Gobblepot fanfiction. 
> 
> So now I'm writing my own. I've borrowed a prompt from the Gobblepot week stuff I saw up on tumblr even though I'm weeks late for that but I don't even care. So here, have a short fic set in some nebulous future where Oswald's been pulled out of the river by people unknown (in my head, it's Fish for this story, not that it comes up. But I have another series in mind that's more... Lovecraftian and I really want to finish the first part of that to post soon) and Jim knows he's alive and where to find him. 
> 
> Just. It's fluff. It doesn't have to make sense, I just wanted to write some feel-good stuff. The prompt, by the way, was 'musical'. The title is from Love You Like A Love Song by Selena Gomez. It's not necessarily what Jim's singing here but it can be if you want. :)

Jim Gordon sang in the shower.

Oswald stared at the ceiling, trying to process this fact. Jim Gordon, who until recently seemed only capable of expressing anger, frustration and disgust towards Oswald, sang in the shower. More than that, he sang _cheesy pop songs_ in the shower.

He wasn’t the best Oswald had ever heard. He’d never have been up on stage at the club, at least. But he could carry a tune better than some of the people Oswald had seen audition. He was singing some bland pop song that had been overplayed on the radio lately. It wasn’t to Oswald’s taste, but he found himself enjoying it regardless. He hadn’t thought it was to Jim’s taste either, but lately the detective was proving to be full of surprises. 

It had been a week since their relationship, if it could be called that, had begun. As he was recovering from Edward’s attempted murder, Oswald had felt adrift, betrayed and alone. He would pick himself up eventually, he knew. He always did, but at the time, still recovering from the gunshot wound, he had simply felt empty. Then Jim had appeared, under the pretext of business, but for once Oswald had managed to distract him from the case at hand. The detective had accepted the offer of a drink for the first time, then revealed he wasn’t actually on duty. He just hadn’t felt like resting. He rarely did any more, finding himself sinking into black despair if he let his mind wander. So he had let Oswald distract him from thoughts of Lee with conversation and another drink. And another. From there, one thing led to another, and another and now Jim was belting out an atrocious pop song while Oswald relaxed in his bed. 

The singing stopped as the water shut off. Jim emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist and water dripping from his hair. He froze in the doorway when he realised Oswald was awake and watching him.

“Did I wake you?” he asked hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. There are worse ways to be woken up than listening to you sing in the shower,” Oswald said, unable to stop a silly, affectionate smile from spreading across his face.

Jim blushed. “I… sorry,” he muttered, turning away. “Barbara made fun of me for it, so I stopped doing it while she was around. I never let Lee hear me either. I hadn’t intended for you to hear but…” He shrugged, aiming for nonchalance and missing my a mile. “I guess I was just in a good mood this morning.”

A bubble of warmth welled up in Oswald’s chest. Jim had woken up in a good mood _next to him._ Perhaps it was a little arrogant to think that he was the cause, but by his own admission, Jim hadn’t even let Lee see this side of him, and he had loved her so much. Still loved her, in fact, as he had confessed a week ago. Oswald himself still had lingering feelings for Ed, and hadn’t fooled himself into thinking that Jim loved him, but still the thought that Jim had relaxed this much with him, had allowed himself to feel happy with Oswald in the next room after spending the night in bed together, made Oswald feel that rush of warm affection. Of pride, even. Barbara had foolishly squashed this part of Jim, but Oswald was the one to revive it. Why would he not be proud of that?

“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Jim asked, frowning at Oswald’s smiling face.

“No! Not at you,” Oswald said hurriedly, coming out of his thoughts. “Just your choice of song.”

The blush that had been fading returned, darker than ever, spreading down Jim’s neck to his chest. “Harvey had the radio on,” he muttered. “It got stuck in my head.”

Oswald laughed. “Perhaps we should find another song for you to sing. Something better suited for your voice.”

Jim sat down on the side of the bed, lingering embarrassment keeping him from making eye contact with Oswald. “I know I can’t really sing,” he said. “But I like to try, I suppose. When I’m happy.”

“You’re not bad, really,” Oswald said, running a pale hand up Jim’s arm. “Perhaps with a little training, we could get you up on stage at a club somewhere,” he added with a teasing smirk. 

Jim withdrew, scowling. “You are making fun of me,” he accused.

Oswald scrambled to sit up, reaching for Jim’s arm before he could go too far. “No, no. Well, perhaps a little,” he admitted. “But I don’t mean to be cruel. I like your singing. I like that you sing when you’re happy, and that you’re happy when I’m here in your bed.” He looked up at Jim with wide eyes, silently imploring him to believe him. “Please, sing if it makes you happy. If you sing because you’re happy. Don’t hold back on my account.”

There was a momentary pause while Jim stared back at Oswald. Then he relaxed and allowed himself to be tugged back towards Oswald.

“Okay, but don’t make fun of me if I can’t keep in tune, or I forget the words or anything,” he said, leaning forwards to give Oswald a chaste kiss. 

“Never,” promised Oswald. “Now, what can I do to entice you back to bed?”

“I have work, Oz” Jim groaned, resting his forehead against Oswald’s.

“You have some time yet,” Oswald replied, a sneaky hand reaching for Jim’s towel. 

Jim could have stopped him, Oswald knew as much, but knew he’d won when Jim ignored his questing fingers.

-

It was another few days before Oswald had the chance to hear Jim singing in the shower again. This time it was an old rock song, one Oswald was more familiar with. Instead of simply lying in bed listening, Oswald joined in, both with the singing and the shower. 

Perhaps they weren’t in love, still hurting over old wounds, but perhaps they could be, given time. An even if they weren’t, Oswald was still going to take this opportunity to be happy, and to enjoy Jim’s happiness. Such times seemed few and far between in Gotham, and he was going to hold on to this with both hands.


End file.
